We Were Burnt and Unafraid
by ImThatTypeOfGirl
Summary: (SKYRIM: DARK BROTHERHOOD QUESTLINE SPOILERS!) What if the newbie of the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary had been there when the Penitus Oculatus had attacked the Sanctuary that night? What if he had seen everything that had happened, and found out who the traitor was before the Listener herself? What if he had survived? Mostly adventure with the teeniest bit of romance :) R&R please!
1. Last Moments

**A/N: So, just a little story that popped into my head. This is for my best friend Martin (because you rock, and you're one of the most amazing gaming partners I've ever played with! :D x) and my follower DemonHunter17, because I felt ****so ****bad about missing his birthday and I promised him a one-shot as a present. Well, here you go! An even _bigger_ story for your favourite faction ;) Revolves around a male Bosmer during the course of the main quest of the Dark Brotherhood (****SPOILERS,**** YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!) a little bit o' romance but mostly adventure :D Please leave me a comment to let me know what you think! x**

**Disclaimer: Skyrim is not mine. *sniff***

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**WE WERE BURNT AND UNAFRAID**

**Chapter One – Last Moments**

I had been working with Gabriella at the alchemy table before it happened. It hadn't been a particularly exciting day; a few contracts had come and gone, nothing special. Veezara had been training with Nazir all afternoon in the main room; even through in the back I could hear their clashing blades, their muffled grunts of effort as they struggled against one another. Every so often the sounds would stop and there would be a brief moment of conversation as Nazir coached Veezara on how well he had performed during that particular fight. Then the conflict would resume.

I remember everything about those last moments, where everyone was, everything Gabriella was saying. I can even remember hearing Lis as she scuttled about in the pit behind me. Babette was sitting reading at the table to my far right, the book clutched tightly between her pearly white fingers. Festus had left the Sanctuary to practise a particularly wild spell (that he had created himself) in the woods outside, so as not to catch anyone accidentally. Arnbjorn, as usual, was slaving away at the workbench, not talking, not thinking. Astrid was somewhere in the rooms near the entrance, probably pouring over some map she'd already looked at a thousand times.

Cicero had gone by this point, though, leaving his beloved Night Mother behind. Good riddance was all I could say. He had tried to attack Astrid, grievously wounding both Veezara and Arnbjorn in the process! Had I been allowed I would have tracked down that son of a bitch and killed him myself! But alas, I did not get the opportunity. The Listener had gone to the Dawnstar Sanctuary to dispatch him herself, and so when she returned _she_ was the one with Cicero's blood staining her hands and her clothes. I was undoubtedly envious she got to do the job herself.

But now was not the time for that. Now she had gone to commit the crime of the century, to let the world know that the Dark Brotherhood was out there and waiting. She had gone to murder the Emperor.

I guess that's why the Sanctuary was oddly subdued; I guess everyone was waiting with bated breath to see if she could do it. She wasn't the newbie anymore, though, that was me. I joined only a little while after she was into the grand scheme of things and I didn't even get to meet her until she had returned from that wedding in Solitude. At first I thought she really had gone to a _wedding. _Well, of course she had, but what I didn't find out was that she'd gone to _kill _the bride.

She doesn't _really _talk to me; a small favour here, an insignificant request there. I wonder if she even knows I'm part of the Brotherhood now, properly. She always seems like she's distant, always thinking about something else.

But, again, now is not the time for that. Now is the time where I have Gabriella's reassuring voice in my ear as I crush the soft Deathbell petals under my diligent hands, between the head of the pestle and the surface of the mortar. It is now well into the evening; Nazir and Veezara have ceased in their practise and are already seated in the dining area. Babette assures us she is merely finishing her chapter before she joins them for the meal, while Arnbjorn calls out irritably for us so he can begin. Astrid tends not to eat with us, and Festus may be some time with his spells.

"Okay, good," Gabriella smiles, ignoring Arnbjorn's impatient shouts. "What do you need now?"

"Ectoplasm," I say, having already looked it out earlier. "Where's the water I heated?"

The dark elf raises an eyebrow at me, a tiny smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "Are you giving _me_ orders, wood elf?"

I shake my head vigorously. "No! No, I'm sorry, I was just – "

"_Here_," she laughs, handing the water to me in a wooden bowl, steam billowing off of the hot liquid. Desperately trying to hide the embarrassed flush spreading across my cheeks I pour in the crushed Deathbell and a slice of jelly-like Ectoplasm, stirring it with the end of a thick spoon. Soon the water begins to give off a strange smell, like mouldy bread and dry sweetroll mixed together with saliva. Not exactly pleasant, I know, but then again this potion isn't _meant_ for consumption.

"Well done!" Gabriella congratulates me by pushing small vial into my hand. "Bottle it up, then."

I carefully grasp the hot wooden bowl and pour the liquid contents into the vial, making sure I don't get any on my fingers. I finish my creation by pushing a stopper into the neck and looking up at Gabriella for approval. She nods and grins at me.

"That's a fine poison you've got there. Soon Babette is going to have to start teaching you!"

I laugh and begin to clear my things away, sweeping the table clear of ingredients and wiping the fresh stains off the surface. Gabriella is writing in her personal journal and only glances up when I request to leave.

"Sure, it's okay, go ahead. I'll only be a minute; tell the others they can start without me."

I nod and leave, making my way downstairs into the dining area where Babette, Arnbjorn, Nazir and Veezara are waiting. A fresh feast is laid down upon the table, the scents so strong I'm surprised my comrades could resist.

"Where's Gabriella?" asks Babette, titling her head slightly.

"She'll only be a minute," I say, wriggling into a seat. "Go ahead and eat."

We all tuck in; I personally take a chunk of roasted Horker meat, still warm and juicy from the spit. Babette helps herself to the stock of human hearts we usually keep for alchemy and Arnbjorn sinks his teeth into a hunk of venison, presumably acquired recently when he went out hunting. Nazir cuts into a chicken dumpling and a plume of sweet-smelling steam rises out, filling the air with the vague hints of stew and warm pastry. Veezara begins eating a leg of goat, roasted until a deep red, but quickly vacates his seat with promise of a surprise and leaves the room.

"Look at what I _collected_ today," he grins, re-entering the space with his arms full of old-fashioned bottles of mead.

I look up from my Horker loaf and squint at the tiny lettering on the bottle labels. "Veezara, what_ is_ that?"

"Ale, right?" Arnbjorn ventures.

"Not quite, my friend," Veezara rasps. "These are bottles of _special _Black-Briar Reserve."

"Wow," I say, the title ringing a bell in the back of my mind. "Aren't those really expensive?"

"And really tasty," winks the Shadowscale, setting the bottles down in the middle of the banquet. The rest of the table eyes them up warily. I almost laugh.

I grab a bottle and chuck another to Veezara, who catches it tight in his fist. "Bottoms up, eh?"

The Argonian laughs; a dry, wheezing sound in his throat, and pulls the stopper out of the neck. "You are sure you want to challenge me, landstrider?"

"Oh yeah," I grin, taking a swig of the mead. "_Bite me_, scale-face."

"_Oooh_," giggles Babette. "No fighting now!"

You could call that feast our last meal. Well, _their_ last meal. Because I would survive the suffering to come next, and so would a few others, with only the memories of our fallen friends – our _Family_ – in our minds. I still look back to those last moments; I was so happy, so content, surrounded by the people who meant everything in the world to me. I always liked to think that the Brotherhood was the family I never had, and to lose them like that was…

But I'm getting ahead of myself. It's turning dark outside by now, and we're more than three-quarters of the way through the super-expensive mead. Arnbjorn and Nazir have joined in and we're getting well and truly on the way to being incapacitated. Babette refused the drink, saying it was a poor substitute for human blood.

"So you just found it sitting there?" Nazir was asking Veezara, the bottle in his hand rocking violently. "A_ crateful_ of this amazing stuff? Just shoved under Astrid's desk?"

"Yes," nods the Argonian in response, a wide grin spread across his face. "Selfish, keeping it all for herself!"

"I agree!" smirks Arnbjorn. "Don't worry; I'll make it up to her tonight, though."

There is a chorus of rough chuckles before Babette's tiny voice pipes up, "That's a good point; where is Astrid? And Gabriella?"

"No idea," says Nazir, who is starting to slur. "Veezara, you should go and invite her! It's her booze after all."

"Alright," the Argonian attempts to stand, but stumbles sideways as he tries to go up the stairs. We roar with laughter; there are tears of mirth dancing in my eyes.

_Your last, precious moments with them…_

"I'm going for a walk," says Babette, standing up. We cheer her as she exits the room, leaving only Nazir, Arnbjorn and I with the remaining alcohol.

…_Tick..._

We banter playfully; I notice how much Arnbjorn has opened up and mentally note how to get on his good side. Running out of interesting things to talk about, we began bragging about our finest kills. Arnbjorn, of course, is brilliant if you are looking for something gory. Nazir is brilliant if you are looking for something with finesse. I, as expected of an assassin, have killed lots, but none of my murders can compare to the grandeur of my peers'.

…_Tock._

When the conversation turns to Nazir and Arnbjorn, and to women, my mind begins to drift. Eventually, even though my senses are almost completely intoxicated, I manage to pick out a sharp smell of oil lingering in the air, through the potent smell of booze. I tilt my head in confusion. There is something else swirling around, grey and choking. I still am ashamed to say it took several minutes for me to recognise what the pungent scent was.

"Hey," I try to grab their attention. "Do you smell that?"

Nazir and Arnbjorn stop their conversation and sniff the air. Arnbjorn's eyes widen in surprise.

"Smoke," he says, getting (rather unsteadily) to his feet. "How had I _not _noticed that?"

I lift my gaze upwards and can pick out soft black swirls drifting in from the stairs, curling around the ceiling and moving slowly down the walls. "It's coming from the main part of the Sanctuary, I think."

"I'll stay here," Nazir says, turning to face me. "You and Arnbjorn go and check it out."

I rise to my feet and my vision spins alarmingly. I honestly didn't think I was that drunk. I follow an equally drunken Arnbjorn through to the main room, stumbling up the stairs and back down again to where a scene from Oblivion itself awaits us.

I gasp and stagger backwards in horror. The Sanctuary…is on _fire_!


	2. Betrayed

**A/N: Hey there! The next chapter! Yaaay! This one is the longest so far at just over three thousand words :3 Aren't you proud of me? x Continues the main quest of the Dark Brotherhood and you get to meet the Listener! (Well, not _properly_ :D) Enjoy; read and review please! xx**

**Disclaimer: God, these are so depressing. Skyrim is not mine. Happy?**

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**WE WERE BURNT AND UNAFRAID**

**Chapter Two - Betrayed**

Bright orange flames claw their way up the Sanctuary walls, devouring everything in their path; small chunks of stone have been dislodged from the walls and rest in bulky piles near our feet. I can make out vague figures through the intense heat and thick smoke that hangs like a black veil around the ceiling. My head is beginning to hurt and my throat feels raw; whether it's side effects of the mead or the heavy smoke I do not know. I strain to hear a quiet conversation on the opposite side of the room that my brain hardly registered at first through the haze of alcohol.

"Where is she?" an Imperial voice cuts through the air.

"I don't know," another Imperial; this one a little older. "More importantly: where are the rest of them?"

"Well," says the first. "We got the mage, and that slimy Argonian bastard."

"Oh, and don't forget the alchemist."

It feels like someone is repeatedly stabbing my heart, over and over and over. And I could guess _exactly _how it feels; I've done it to others countless times. _They've killed my Family_. I hear my own voice, hard with restrained anger, echoing around inside my head. _They killed Festus, they killed Veezara - they even killed Gabriella_. I can still remember her voice, teaching me the skills of an alchemist, not two hours ago. _Not two hours ago_.

The world begins to revolve in slow motion. I watch as Arnbjorn lets out a cry of pure rage, his werewolf form bursting out through his Brotherhood armour as he thunders off toward the intruders. I turn and move through to the alchemy chamber, searching for my trusty bow. Instead I find Gabriella's broken body, flung haphazardly over the side of Lis's pen. The arachnid, too, is dead.

I drop to my knees, gasping back the tears but only succeeding in choking in a lungful of smoke-tainted air. I cough raggedly, feeling the poisonous fumes scratch against my throat and desperately wishing I'd worn my Shrouded cowl that day. I crawl on my hands and knees to where my bow and quiver have been knocked under the table; to where Babette had sat with her book. I wonder where she is now, and if she's alright.

I stumble to my feet, feeling sick and dizzy, trying not to look at Gabriella's bloodied corpse as I rush out of the room and into the main part of the Sanctuary. The flames are beginning to spread along the ground by now, clawing at the stone and dirt with burning red fingers. The Sanctuary itself seems to be shaking, larger pieces of rock now raining down from the walls and roof.

I sling my quiver across my back and knock an arrow into my bow. I can barely make out Arnbjorn's huge black shape amidst the flames, tearing apart a few, smaller silhouettes. My eyes are stinging with the smoke and my vision is blurred due to the mead. I perch myself atop the far stairs, away from the flames but with a good vantage point. I raise my arm, the string of my bow pushing roughly against my cheek. I look down the line of the arrow to where I've aimed it at one of the smaller figures. I let it fly.

It soars through the smoke-filled air, cutting through the fire and flames to clatter spectacularly against the back wall, two metres too far to the right of my target. I curse under my breath, knocking another arrow against the wood. I can now pick out raised voices amidst the crumble of falling rocks and minor explosions, heading toward me.

"Over there, there's another one!"

Somewhere, deep in my subconscious, I recognise the armour of the intruders. It's the Penitus Oculatus, the Emperor's personal guard. I knew then that our Listener had failed her contract. Had she put the Sanctuary in danger? Had _she _done this, to her Family – and mine?

Was she the traitor?

I loose another arrow and this time it meets its mark, piercing through the throat of a Penitus Oculatus agent. He falls backwards with a gurgled shriek and into one of the many raging fires eating away at the Sanctuary's structure. I can make out three more agents heading my way, and four surrounding Arnbjorn. I take out the first two advancing on me in a couple of attempts, but the third gets too close and knocks my bow from my hands into the nearest blaze.

"Filthy assassin!" screams the agent. "You'll fall by my hand!"

I stumble backwards on the stairs, his sword dangerously close to my throat. My head is throbbing viciously and my eyes are smarting with tears; smoke or booze, I still don't know. I scramble for my ebony dagger, usually wound onto my belt. My fingers find the empty loop and I frantically scuttle backwards, out of the path of the Imperial's blade. I search the floor for my dagger and I spot it glinting under a fallen shelf that is half rotten, half burnt.

Locking eyes with the agent of the Penitus Oculatus, I thrust my leg out, bashing into the side of his knees and knocking him onto the ground. Rushing out of the way, I stumble to my feet and lunge for my dagger.

"Not so fast!"

The agent's hands go around my ankle, yanking me backwards. I choke in another cloud of smoke; it rakes down my throat with thick black claws, leaving me coughing and gasping for breath. I twist around, trying to get a good look at the Imperial. He's dropped his sword; it's lying at the foot of the stairs, reflecting the raging fires tearing through the Sanctuary. The whole place is shaking now, dirt and debris pouring down on the carnage below.

I kick out viscously at the Penitus Oculatus agent but he's stubborn and won't let go. Hauling myself forward on my elbows, I manage to drag him far enough forward for me to reach my dagger. I grasp it and whirl round, slicing through his wrist in one fluid movement. He yells out in pain and releases my ankle, tumbling backwards down the stairs. I stagger to my feet and rush forward, slitting open his throat and then darting to rescue my bow from the flames.

My head is pounding, like I've tasted a little too much of Gabriella's newest potion. I can barely see through the thick smoke and my watering eyes; my throat feels like someone's taken a broom and scraped all the bristles down it, leaving behind all the dust it had previously collected. I lurch down the stairs and towards Arnbjorn, who is still wrestling with three agents. Four lie dead at his feet, torn to pieces – no, more like _shreds_.

I draw my bow when I'm close enough, the heat making my palms run with sweat. My eyes are hurting badly, and my first two arrows miss. The third lands in the knee of the nearest agent and he falls to the floor, crying out in pain. Arnbjorn jumps in at this point and ends the agent's life with a swipe of his massive claws.

"You take the one on the right!" I shout to the werewolf over the roaring flames and crumbling rock, reeling in horror to hear my voice coming out thick and raspy. "The left one is mine!"

I release four arrows in quick succession, my gloved fingers slipping on the bowstring. The third and fourth pierce the agent's chest and he stumbles backward, gasping, to crumple in a heap on the floor. I turn to see Arnbjorn finishing off his target; the guard's tattered head landing messily in the dirt.

By now my senses are completely overwhelmed by the heavy smoke; I can barely think, let alone breathe. I stumble toward Arnbjorn and he catches me in his massive claws. Looking up into his eyes, I am sure I can hear his voice in my head.

_You okay, kid?_

I shake my head. "Can't … _breathe_."

_We've got to get out of here_, Arnbjorn rumbles. _The whole place is coming down! Where's Astrid? What about Nazir and Babette?_

"I don't know," I cough, as we head for the exit. "Gabriella is dead, and judging from what the Penitus Oculatus were saying so are Festus and Veezara. Nazir might still be in the dining room!"

_No time_, growls the werewolf as we swerve out of the way of falling rocks. _Someone has to keep the Brotherhood alive, and we can't do that if we're all dead. Head for the exit, don't stop running, don't look back._

"What about you?" I wheeze, my vision beginning to slide.

_I'm going to find Astrid; will you be –_

Angry shouts sound from the path ahead; Imperial voices unhindered by the smoke. Arnbjorn and I look at each other, and I can see the hard sadness in his golden eyes. I knew then he had accepted his fate.

"No!" I cry, my voice cracking. My whole world was falling apart, I couldn't lose anyone else! "Don't do it, I'm sure there's another way – "

_No, there isn't_; his voice is resigned. _I'm going to create a distraction and you're going to run, okay?_

"But you can't take them all by yourself!" I say, gasping for breath and finding only smoke in the air.

Now, you should know that I never considered Arnbjorn the sort of man to make friends with anyone. Sure, he talked to the other members of the Brotherhood, but he never seemed _happy _about it. He certainly never seemed to take any sort of notice of _me_. So when I looked into his eyes, in the last moments I saw him alive, I was surprised to see a glint of contentment there.

His werewolf growl rumbles deep in my chest: _I know_.

He pushes my roughly to the side and howls, long and low. The six guards that burst through the doorway immediately chase after him to the middle of the Sanctuary, swords unsheathed and flashing silver in the shadows.

I take one last look at Arnbjorn, crushing his image into my memory, before I turn and begin stumbling up the stairs.

My hands are itchy and hot, my armour is sticking to my skin. My feet are blistered and sore, even through my boots; I'm sure I've burnt them on the scorching rock. I wrench my empty quiver from my back and throw it aside, the arrows long gone. My bow is at breaking point; the string melting, the wood cracked. I leave it on the steps and crawl forward on my hands and knees, my vision faltering, my hands burned.

I make my way up into the entrance room, the large circular area where it branches off to Astrid and Arnbjorn's quarters. I rest there for a moment, where the smoke isn't so heavy and the flames aren't so hot. My whole body is in agony; I _must_ have been caught in the blaze at some point. Just as I'm about to keep going, up the stairs and away from my burning home, something Arnbjorn said rings loud in my mind.

'_Someone has to keep the Brotherhood alive, and we can't do that if we're all dead.' '. I'm going to find Astrid.'_

I turn my head, seeing a small fire burning steadily in the far corner of Astrid's bedchamber. Maybe she was still alive? I hadn't seen her in the other parts of the Sanctuary, what if she was here? I could still _save_ her! We could rebuild the Dark Brotherhood together; she was the leader, after all. I slowly get to my feet, and from deep inside myself I find the strength to stand, to move forward.

Little did I know; the decision that cost all of my remaining strength would cost me another of my Family members.

I stagger towards the doorway, trying to call out her name but my words scrape across my throat like sandpaper. I rest my hand against the frame, but jump away instantly as the wood scorches my gloves. Through the flames jumping up at the doorway I can see Astrid sitting on the side of the bed, her head in her hands. I try my voice again.

"Astrid!" I croak, moving through the flames to where she sits. "Astrid, are you okay?"

I'm surprised to see tears in her eyes when she looks up. "No. I'm so sorry, to you, to everyone. I never meant this, and now…"

"What do you mean? Come on, we've got to – "

Then it dawns on me. Very slowly, the anger I had previously felt deep down in my heart begins to bubble back up like lava, breaking out over the rim and flowing freely down the side of the volcano. I knew exactly what had happened, who was responsible for all of this. I knew it wasn't the Listener after all; she had been set up. She was most likely dead.

This damned betrayer: they'd killed my Family, they'd killed their husband, and they'd killed our most valuable asset, the Listener. All this had happened because of the traitor we'd feared for so long.

All this had happened because of Astrid.

"Why…?" I stumble backward, crashing into a dresser and sending splinters across the burning floor. "_You're_ the traitor?_ Why_?"

"I didn't mean to, I wanted – "

I don't even let her get the words out. "How _could_ you? How could you do this? You sadistic_ bitch_! You killed the only people in the world who meant anything to me!"

I draw my dagger, fury raging inside me like the burning Sanctuary. How could she do this? Do this to her Family, her lover? Astrid immediately gets to her feet when she sees my weapon and spreads her arms.

"Do it," she pleads. "Go ahead."

But something stops me. The Eight know I want to, but I don't. I breathe out, sheath my dagger and take a step back.

"I hate you," I say, my voice hard with rage, only wavering a little from the poisonous smoke. "I hate you for everything you've done to the Dark Brotherhood. But I did a little reading, and I found out about our original rules, the ones you so casually cast aside. So I can't kill you, or I'll break one. _Tenet 5: Never kill a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis._"

Astrid's eyes widen.

"From now on I'm sticking to tradition; I should have never had gone along with your way in the first place. I'd hate to be here when Sithis comes to claim your soul and sees what you've done. Burning a Brotherhood Sanctuary with _the_ _Night Mother's body_ inside must have a severe punishment. _Tenet 1: Never dishonour the Night Mother. To do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis_. " I'm almost having fun. "He's going to be _pissed_."

With that, I squash the last of my remaining anger and flee the room, throwing myself onto my hands and knees in time to retch up a pool of yellow bile and blood at the foot of the stairs leading to the exit.

I can barely comprehend what Astrid has done. Our own _leader_ was the traitor! The one who swore to protect the Sanctuary _no matter what_! How could she betray us like that? I wish I lived 200 years ago, when the Tenets still regulated the Brotherhood. Maybe we'd have some order, and this never would have happened.

Once I've emptied my stomach - and possibly hurt my throat even more than it already was - I haul myself onto my feet using the warm stone walls of the stairway. I stagger forward, my feet fumbling over the steps and my gloves slipping against the walls. I can hardly think; the pain in my head and my throat is unbearable. I can feel the smoke clogging my lungs; my breaths coming out in short, wheezing rasps. Will I ever reach the end of this stairway?

With a cough I trip and fall forward over something on the floor. Turning back to look at what it was, I notice the form of Veezara sprawled across the ground, his body broken in several places. I force the image out of my mind and replace it with happier memories, happier times. Leaving the Argonian's corpse behind me, I press on.

Just when I'm about to give up, give in to the darkness I know will mean death, I see it at last. The Black Door. I can hear its heartbeat, pounding strong and resolute in the shadows. It emits a crimson aura, through which the Dread father's skull stands out like a white wraith in the darkness. I crawl forward, coughing, and reach out to it.

The door swings outward at my touch and I am hit by a wave of cold night air, tainted with rain. I breathe in huge lungfuls of the icy air, untouched by the smoke of the burning Sanctuary. Coughing and trying to settle my heaving stomach, I attempt to stand but my legs give way underneath me and I fall into the rain-speckled grass. Crawling forward on my front, I manage to find a little bit of cover in the longer grass to the far left of the entrance before my body gives up; utterly drained.

As my eyes begin to close, I pick out the shapes of more barrels at the entrance that I missed on my way out. They too, I can see, are filled with oil. Further away more agents of the Penitus Oculatus stand, chatting idly beside a horse and cart. In their hands they hold blazing torches that remind me all too vividly of the fire not too far away and on their belts rest polished steel blades.

I sigh and am about to let go when I see a figure riding through the shadows. She is clad in the Brotherhood armour but her cowl is pulled back, revealing dark golden locks and glinting scarlet eyes. Her skin is a very pale white and stretched tight over her frame; her cheekbones are exceedingly prominent. Surrounding her eye sockets and trailing down her cheeks and neck is thick red war paint, standing out like blood on snow.

The Listener has returned.

She rides upon Shadowmere, their eyes the same deep crimson. The mare is in full gallop but the vampire is still upright in the saddle, her first arrow held taught in her bow. The glass gleams blue in the night, the rain sliding down the handle and over the Listener's gloved fingers.

Within a few moments she has taken out the first three Penitus Oculatus agents, their torches bouncing against the wet cobblestones and going out. The next two run at her but another couple of arrows sends them tumbling backwards into the dirt. Dismounting Shadowmere, she leaves the road behind and sprints to the entrance of the Sanctuary, her blonde hair now dark with rain and slicked back against her skull. She pauses a moment at the oil barrels before gasping out in horror and running to the Black Door.

I can barely keep my eyes open long enough to watch her wrench open the stone and slip inside.


	3. A Thousand Storms

**A/N: Hi there! I'm so happy with this story, actually I just finished it yesterday ;) Here's the next chapter; a little more of the Listener, you'll be happy to hear. You didn't really get an introduction to her, I guess :3 Hahaha, anyway, enjoy :) Review please, it would mean a lot to me :D x**

**Disclaimer: Skyrim isn't mine, no matter how much I want it to be.**

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**WE WERE BURNT AND UNAFRAID **

**Chapter Three – A Thousand Storms**

I awake to the gentle pitter-patter of rain drops in the grass. There's the faint smell of smoke in the air but the more noticeable scent is _damp_. I open my eyes to find a murky dawn seeping through the thick fog of the Falkreath forest. The sun's rays desperately try to penetrate the heavy vapour but only succeed in lighting it a pale grey.

I try to get to my feet but only manage to roll over onto my back before my entire body screams out in agony. I can feel every bruise, every wound, every burn on my skin. I gasp out in pain and find my throat raw, the wet air stinging as I inhale it. My chest hurts and I can't breathe right; it feels like the air is scratching my lungs.

I cough and I lie back in the grass, feeling the drizzly rain soak into my scorched armour. Staring up at the sky, I'm marvelling at the fact I survived. All my anger and fear has just melted away and I feel nothing, hollow almost. Why am I even here? Did _anyone_ else live through that? I wonder if the Listener made it out. Did _she_ rescue anyone? I know I passed out after she went in. Is there anything left of the Sanctuary? Or my Family?

I lie here and wait; I can't move, and there's no point in trying or I'm just going to hurt myself more. I gaze up at the dreary grey clouds, watching the rain fall gently from the sky. I let my lids slip, so my eyes are half-closed. I am well on the way to falling asleep when a pair of delicate white fingers shut my eyes for me.

I jerk forward, a wheezing cough escaping my lips. I frantically try and push myself up into a sitting position but my shoulders complain so I end up falling back into the grass, struggling for breath. A smoke-stained face appears above me, its red eyes wide.

"Oh, by Sithis," she whispers. It takes several moments for my brain to kick in and remind me that the face belongs to the Listener. "You aren't dead. Are you okay? Can you stand?"

I've never heard the Listener so concerned, or relieved. I nod, a little too hastily, before I can remind myself that I've already tried getting up and that I can't. But I'm surprised to find her arms going around my waist and helping me up. I stagger to my feet, feeling dizzy and a sore, to be embraced far more tightly than I would have liked when I'm in this state.

I've never seen the Listener lose her stone-like composure before, and to have her hugging me like this is completely unheard of. I'm not sure I'm meant to return the embrace but I put my arms around her anyway. Only when I feel her tears smudging into the skin of my neck do I realise that the burning Sanctuary has been the final straw to her frightful day.

"I guess the Emperor isn't dead then," I rasp, feeling the words come out thick and dry.

I feel her shake her head against my neck and her voice comes out in the faintest of whispers. "It was a trap. Astrid…is the traitor."

"I know," I say, hating to admit it even now. "What's the Sanctuary like? Did anyone…?"

She pulls out of my arms and nods, wiping her tears and sliding her stone mask of self-control back over her face. "Yes, both Nazir and Babette survived."

I breathe out in relief, feeling my throat protest in the process. "Thank Sithis. But no-one else? What about Astrid?"

I see the mask crack a little. "She was burnt beyond recognition. She performed the Black Sacrament on herself, so as the Listener I would come to kill her. She told me she was sorry for everything, and she was jealous of me being the Listener and only wanted things to go back to the way they were before. She was sceptical of the Night Mother, but all those feelings disappeared when I came for her because she knew her prayers had been heard."

I nod, feeling a little shaky. "How did _you _make it out?"

"I heard the Night Mother speaking to me," she says. "She told me to embrace her in her coffin, as it was the only way to survive."

There is a moment of silence between us. What more is there to say? We had both gone through the ordeal and both knew what had happened now; nothing more _needed_ to be said. Eventually the vampire broke the stillness with her clear, confident tones.

"I must be going now," she says, pushing past me. "You'll find Nazir and Babette inside the Sanctuary; you should speak with them - they may need your help."

"Wait!" I rasp, trying to catch her as she makes her way down to the fetid pond where Shadowmere now waits. "Where are you going?"

She hauls herself up into the saddle and grins sadly at me. "To find Amaund Motierre one more time." With a sharp thrust of her heels into Shadowmere's flank, the horse takes off down the road and away through the trees.

I watch them go before returning to the Sanctuary entrance. The barrels of oil are gone, only faint traces of the flammable liquid still linger on the ground. I very slowly make my way toward the Black Door, my feet in agony. As I approach it its heartbeat becomes audible, like drums pounding in the dark. I stand before it like I have done a thousand other times and listen when whispering voice asks me: "_What is the music of life_?"

I hesitate. Do I want to see what is beyond the door? What is left of my home, my life? Can I face my Family knowing that we are the only ones left? I reach my fingers out (burnt, even through the material of my Shrouded gloves) and very gently touch the stone surface of the Dread Father's depicted skull.

"Silence, my brother," I say, very quietly.

"_Welcome home_."

The Black Door swings inward, revealing the smoke-stained interior of the Sanctuary. As I make my way through the wreckage I notice Veezara's corpse has been moved from the stairway and the doorway to Astrid's room has been blocked off with a few slats of wood. I can barely look at how badly affected the Sanctuary was by the fire, feeling my heart sink with every pile of ashes I come across. Every one of these little grey mounds used to _be_ something; now I can't even tell if it was living or not.

I'm just about to make my way down into the main part of the Sanctuary, to see Babette and Nazir for the first time since last night's dinner, when something stops me. Well, more accurately, some_one_ stops me.

"_Ah, dear child_," the voice sooths; I can instantly recognise it as female. "_You have been through a lot, haven't you? There, no need worry. Mother is here now, Mother will protect you…_"

I jump and take a step back, away from the stairs that lead to the main room. I can hear my blood pulsing in my ears and my heart leaping around inside my chest. Her voice is…_inside_ my head! Could she be…?

"Night Mother?" I ask tentatively.

"_Very good_," she confirms it. "_My dear child, I have a very urgent task for you. The Listener is in grave danger; an ambush awaits her at _The Katariah_ that I had not foreseen. Amaund Motierre is not as strong-willed as I'd thought. He has found out the Dark Brotherhood has failed his contract and fears he will be caught. He wishes to eliminate us and clear his name, starting with the Listener."_

"What must I do?" I ask, grimly worried for my Family's safety.

"_He has slipped word anonymously to Commander Maro that the Brotherhood has not yet fallen and their leader is heading for the Emperor once again. Be fleet and head for _The Katariah_, a grand ship currently docked at Solitude. It will be heavily guarded by Penitus Oculatus agents and Commander Maro will also be aboard the ship. Accompany the Listener on her contract and see that her blade pierces the Emperor's heart once and for all."_

"But she told me she had gone to seek out Amaund Motierre!" I say, confused. "So where has she _really_ gone?"

"_No, she __**has **__gone to see Motierre, my child_," the Unholy Matron replies. "_And he knows she is coming to find him for the whereabouts of the Emperor. Once she has the information out of him she will ride for Solitude, for _The Katariah_. But Motierre has already alerted the Penitus Oculatus to her presence and Commander Maro has prepared a trap if she is to try and board the ship."_

"But, Night Mother," I say, suddenly very aware of how long we have been talking. "I'm still injured from the burning of the Sanctuary. Plus, Solitude is a three day ride away and I don't own a mount. How am I supposed to get there in time?"

"_Do not worry, my child_," she calms me. "_I have healed your wounds; consider it a debt that you will soon repay. Outside in the dark waters of the fetid pond a steed will await you; he is yours to possess. Ride like a thousand storms, and do not fail me_…"

I nod, looking down at my exposed skin and marvelling at how I have recovered thanks to the Night Mother's help. I rush towards the exit of the Sanctuary, my feet slipping on the stone stairs.

"…_Speaker_."


	4. Riding the Night

**A/N: Wooo! Half-way done! Yeah, this story is particularly short, but I've never written so much for one fanfic before so I'm happy :D A big shout out to InkheartFirebringer; your reviews are brilliant, thank you! x Anyway, hope you enjoy, please read and review! xx  
**

**Disclaimer: Skyrim isn't mine, you should know this by now ;)**

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**WE WERE BURNT AND UNAFRAID**

**Chapter Four – Riding the Night**

The Night Mother did not jest. As I make my way out of the Sanctuary through the Black Door I notice the dark waters of the fetid pond begin to bubble and writhe like something is stirring beneath their usually still surface. A huge head appears from the shadowy waters, nostrils flaring, silver eyes wide. A stallion emerges from the pond, glossy black coat shimmering in the dull dawn light. He faces me with his piercing eyes and I move toward him, the intensity of the situation forgotten for a moment as I gaze in awe at his beauty. Running my hands across his hide, I notice it to be a dark iridescent blue rather than black. He is also a lot thinner than the climate-accustomed thick-pelted horses of Skyrim; more like he was born and raised in Cyrodiil, or somewhere equally warm.

"_Ride like a thousand storms, and do not fail me…_"

The Night Mother's words ring clear in my mind and I mount the stallion, my feet resting comfortably in the stirrups. With the fate of my Listener and my Family resting on my shoulders, I spur the stallion onwards with a sharp thrust of my heels into his side. He takes off onto the forest path and I marvel at how swift he is, much faster than the sturdy horses of Skyrim, anyway. I lean down low in the saddle, feeling the wind rushing past me and pull at my burnt clothes with icy fingers.

"What shall I call you?" I murmur into the stallion's ear, to distract myself from the horrors I will soon face. "The Listener's mare is named 'Shadowmere'. What must you be called?" I take in his slender form, his startling moon-like eyes and silky blue-black coat.

"Nightrider," I say softly, whispering it in his ear. He halts abruptly in mid-gallop, throwing me further forward in the seat and then tossing me back as he rears up, hooves pawing at the air as if trying to catch invisible snowflakes.

"Nightrider," I say again, as his legs slam back down onto the cobbles and he resumes his charge. "I guess you like it then." I chuckle to myself, leaning forward once more and preparing for the long ride to Solitude.

All in all, with only one stop, it takes us two and a half days to reach the capital of Skyrim (although, honestly, if I hadn't had Nightrider as my mount I never would have covered enough ground to reach the shore ahead of the Listener). By the time we spot the great bulk of the city we are both exhausted and in desperate need of a rest; my legs are aching with cramp from riding for so long and Nightrider must surely be weary too. Hiding the stallion in a small patch of trees across from the city I sneak inside, my Brotherhood armour concealed by a hooded grey cloak. Assured in the knowledge that the Listener cannot possibly reach the shores of the capital in the next ten hours I snag them for myself in the Winking Skeever and get a well-deserved rest.

Waking and feeling refreshed, I leave the city and head back down to where I left Nightrider, grabbing my new bow from his saddle. It is Elven in make, crafted from the finest golden wood and formed perfectly. I balance it in my hands, silently thanking the Night Mother for everything she has given me. Even though I have the world's hardest task yet to perform, I feel confident I will not fail.

I grasp my new quiver (holding forty Elven arrows in its depths) and sling it over my back. Patting Nightrider affectionately on the nose, I slip out of the cover of the trees and into a smaller patch of foliage nearer the shore. From here I can see _The Katariah_ and the twelve or so guards patrolling her deck. Twenty to thirty Penitus Oculatus agents have made camp near the water and are now wakening from their slumber, changing look-out shifts as the early risers begin to wake. I can't guess how many are awaiting us inside the ship itself, but I'm beginning to doubt if I can accomplish this task the Night Mother has set before me.

How can two (albeit highly-skilled) assassins hope to infiltrate a ship to fulfil a contract when half an army knows will soon be there? The whole idea of an 'assassination' is that they don't know it's coming! I sigh and run a hand through my dark hair, feeling the beginnings of anxiety flutter around inside my chest. I quickly crush it before the Night Mother can see my weakness.

I continue to watch _The Katariah_ and her surroundings for the next hour, keeping a close watch on the number of guards patrolling her deck. _They'll want to kill us before we even get on the ship_, I think to myself. _So when we actually get on board, there won't be that many because the group on the shore is supposed to get rid of us first time around. I hope._

A dark shape in the corner of my vision causes me to look up in alarm. Squinting, I can just make out the silhouette of a black horse and shadowy rider galloping across the snowy landscape. As they get closer, they duck into the surrounding foliage, and I get a good glimpse of their appearance. If the war-painted vampire in Brotherhood armour doesn't give away who she is, the mare with glowing scarlet eyes certainly does. It is the Listener; she has arrived!

I dart backwards, making sure I don't disturb the winter bushes too much as I head for the small patch of forest where I have left Nightrider. Pushing through the snow-laden branches, I come into the little circle of firs to find the Listener dismounting her horse next to mine.

"What are you doing here?!" she hisses, advancing towards me. "Wait. How did you find out... where I was going?"

I take a step forwards. "The Night Mother spoke to me. She told me you were in danger, and I had to go and help you."

"She…_spoke _to you?" the vampire seemed confused.

"Yeah, but that's not the important part," I say, my words tumbling over one another in the hurry to get out. "You're walking into a trap; there's forty-odd agents guarding _The Katariah_, waiting for you to walk in and kill the Emperor!"

She seems irritated, but I can hear the uncertainty in her voice. "So? I'm sure I can handle them on my own. You really didn't need to come; plus, I'm sure you're already injured from the fire at the Sanctuary."

I shake my head. "No. The Night Mother healed my wounds and gave me a mount. She then told me to ride to Solitude and await you there, because you'd need me."

Glancing back at Nightrider, the Listener makes her way over to a small slit amongst the tree branches, peering through the snow-burdened needles at _The Katariah_ docked in the bay. I watch as she turns back round to face me, her eyes a little wider than before. She seems to stare into the distance for a while before locking her eyes with mine. Do I see the tiniest sparkle of unease dancing in their crimson depths?

"Fine," she says, her voice hard as she grabs her swords from a pouch attached to Shadowmere's saddle. "Let's go. We'll show that damned Commander Maro just who he's dealing with."


	5. The Ambush

**A/N: Woop woop! Hello there, thanks to all the reviews and favourites I've found in my emails, they make my day :D So this is the next chapter, in which the two DB assassins attempt their way on board_ The Katariah_ ;) A little bit of giggles,and, ****as always, please leave a review to let me know what you think! :D xx**

**Disclaimer: Skyrim is not mine, blah de blah de blah.**

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**WE WERE BURNT AND UNAFRIAD**

**Chapter Five – The Ambush**

We wait until night has fallen to make our move.

The time has arrived to finally get rid of the Emperor. It isn't a particularly spectacular day to die on; the skies are a deep murky black and tiny snowflakes have begun to fall from their depths. An icy wind throws itself through the air, ripping through our armour as if it were parchment. I shiver, yanking up the hood of my cloak and turning to face the Listener.

"You ready?" I ask, slinging my bow over my back.

She sheaths her glass swords either side of her hips. "Yes."

We leave both Shadowmere and Nightrider in the small copse and wriggle forward through the snow on our fronts. We approach _The Katariah, _the small snowy bushes providing excellent cover so we can get in close. Four Penitus Oculatus stand guard over the campsite; two on the far left, one closer to us, and another on the right side. All of them are standing like statues, one hand grasping a blazing torch and the other resting on the hilt of their sword.

We have, of course, already discussed what we're going to do. So when I very gently tap her on the shoulder she moves backwards into the trees and leaves me out front, just as planned. I take my bow very carefully from my back and knock two arrows against the string. Aiming them at the pair of agents on the left, I get as low as possible to the ground before I let them fly.

From behind me I hear the Listener do the same but for the two on the right and our combined arrows pierce their targets simultaneously so that all four guards fall backwards into the frozen mud, their torches landing in the light snow and going out. Any sounds they may have made when they died are caught in the wind and thrown far out across the water, so none of the others are alerted to our presence.

We slip out under the cover of darkness, moving into the campsite where the rest of the Penitus Oculatus lie sleeping. We dance around their bedrolls, arrows held taut in our bows, and very quickly take out those closest to us. Tonight the wind is my friend; its shrieks and cries drown out those of the agents we're slaying. I make my way around the left side of the camp while the Listener moves to the right. We work our way inwards, retrieving any arrows we lose and eventually meet in the middle.

I look around us; twenty-six (plus the four who were on look-out) of the most highly-trained guards lie dead at our feet. I turn to the Listener and she nods.

We move silently toward _The Katariah,_ our feet gliding across the thin layer of fallen snow. The ship looms dark and menacing in front of us, like a mountain we could never hope to climb. We search for a way on board but as we have already concluded previously, there is only way we can hope to get inside.

"You first," I hear the Listener whisper in my ear. "Make sure the hull is clear and then signal me to get on board."

I nod and drop my hooded woollen cloak in the snow. "Wish me luck." Bracing myself for the icy water I am about to plunge into, I take a step back and raise my hands above my head. Sprinting forward, I dive into the water with the slightest of splashes and my vision is swallowed by darkness. I can immediately feel the cold, like someone is thrusting freezing daggers into my skin. Curving upwards with a sharp kick of my legs I resurface, taking a gentle breath of fresh air – which is also bitterly cold. Submerging all of my face except my eyes and the top of my head, I very carefully swim around to the far side of the ship, feeling the icy waters soak into my armour with every stroke. I reach the starboard side and, more importantly, the huge black anchor chain trailing from _The Katariah_ into the dark depths below me.

Lacing my arms around its bulk, I slide my way up the chain. As I get further up I can feel the shrieking wind biting at my wet clothes, tearing into me with its icy teeth. I haul myself up to the end of the chain, where a hole has been carved into the side of the ship to let it drop. Peering into the gloom I can see a room full of crates, illuminated softly by a torch on the far wall. I gently slip off of the anchor chain and onto my hands and knees, crawling behind one of the shelves of packages and crates.

Several sailors are idly moving around the hold, drowsy from lack of sleep. Knocking an arrow into my bow I carefully angle it between the crates and take out the first two I can see. They fall to the floor with small cries of surprise, alerting the next three to my presence. I release another three arrows in quick succession and the sailors fall, the heads piercing their hearts. I scuttle to the hole in the side of _The Katariah_ and put my fingers to my lips, releasing a string of marsh-bird sounds from the edge of my mouth.

The call echoes back to me across the water and a moment later I hear a gentle splash, accompanied by a wave of small ripples across the surface. I spot the Listener bobbing up and down in the water, her dark golden locks slicked back against her skull like at the Sanctuary when it had been raining. I shiver; just to think about what had happened at the Sanctuary makes me itch with supressed anger towards Commander Maro. I hope we run into him on board _The Katariah_; then maybe we'll get a little time to talk.

I'm shaken back to the present when I hear the soft clunking sound of the anchor chain against the hull of the ship. I hold the metal under my hands and lean out to see the Listener advancing up the chain.

"Well don't just_ stand_ there, help me up!" she snaps, her voice low as she holds out her hand for me to grasp. I reach down and grab her arm, but my feet are slipping on the wet metal of the anchor chain and I can't get a good hold on her armour.

"What are you – ?" she only manages a few words before my fingers slip from her arm and she tumbles backwards into the water, the splash so huge it sends droplets bouncing off the side of the boat. I whirl round, desperately hoping that no-one heard that.

No chance.

I can hear raised voices from the second level, feet sounding heavily on the floorboards above my head. I probably have about a minute before the Penitus Oculatus find me in the hold; I rush over to the anchor chain, peering into the dark waters where the Listener has now resurfaced. I wince; she looks pissed.

"_You shit-for-brains_!" she screams, clawing her way back up the chain. "By Sithis, if you want something right, do it yourself! What were you _thinking_?"

I hear feet pounding on the stairs to my left and I panic a little. "Give me your hand, I won't drop you this time, I promise!"

"Are you insane?!" she hisses. "You're not getting my hand again if it kills me!"

"Well it probably will!" I snap, angry now. "The Penitus Oculatus will be here any second and I_ need_ you! I can't take them all on my own."

She looks up at me, her crimson eyes flashing with anger. "_Fine_. Help me up."

She reaches out her hand and this time I plant my feet firmly on the floor before locking arms with her. Hauling her up, I can feel her feet slipping on the wet chain. I can also hear the aggravated shouts of the Penitus Oculatus as they thunder down the stairs toward us.

"I'm slipping," she gasps, her hand sliding from my around my forearm. I can feel beats of sweat running down my face as I struggle to hold onto her. "Pull me up, quickly!"

Lunging forward, I lock both arms around her waist and heave her upwards. "Put your arms around my neck!" I say, desperately trying to lift her before the Emperor's guards come in. She raises an eyebrow at me and I exhale in frustration. "Oh, by the Eight – _just do it_!"

She wraps her arms around my neck and I lean forward, helping her scrambling feet find a hold on the side of the ship. We fall backwards into the crates as she reaches the end of the chain and I stagger backwards with her in my arms. At that exact moment six Penitus Oculatus burst in through the door at the far end to find us in a very awkward heap amongst a stack of broken wooden boxes.

Oh _crap_.


	6. Unfinished Business

**A/N: Hi there! I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while! I actually started and finished this story during the course of my Easter holidays but haven't got around to posting this chapter yet due to school getting in the way :( xx Again, I do apologize. Anyway, this is basically the last chapter, but I will be posting another after this one. This rounds off the DB questline but doesn't inform you on what happens to the Brotherhood after _Hail Sithis! _You can basically finish reading after this one but the chapter that comes next ties everything up in a nice little bow ;) **

****IMPORTANT** In a section of this chapter things get a little gory (when my main character finally get to meet Commander Maro again), but not enough to raise the rating. If you're not comfortable with it just skip ahead a little, it should still read okay. I had to prove to the reader that my main character is the merciless assassin he says he is, not just the 'newbie' - he actually has the capacity to do some awful things.**

**Anyway, thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed, especially to those who've commented on every chapter :D It means a lot, thank you! Second last chapter, I really hope you enjoy it! R&R please, as always xx**

**Disclaimer: Finally! Only one of these things left after this one :D SKYRIM IS NOT MINE. Wow, when I put it in caps like that it looks like I'm really angry. Ooops :P xx**

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**WE WERE BURNT AND UNAFRAID**

**Chapter Six – Unfinished Business**

"Get them!" yells the first Penitus Oculatus agent, presumably the leader of the group.

I frantically try to disentangle myself from the Listener and she gives me a sharp kick in the shin. Struggling to my feet and drawing my bow, I manage to take out the first few guards with a couple of well-aimed arrows. By the time the Listener has got to her feet the next three are running toward us and I've realised the rest of my arrows are lying chaotically over the floor of the hold (presumably when I fell backwards). I watch in awe as she draws her glass swords and in a few swift movements – so fluid it always looks like she's dancing - the Penitus Oculatus agents are lying dead on the floor.

"Right then," she says, looking at me irritably. "We were heading somewhere important, yes?"

I hastily gather up my arrows and push them into my quiver in time to see the vampire exit the cargo hold and proceed up the stairs.

"Oh, dammit," I mutter, jogging after her. "Wait!"

We make our way through wave after wave of Penitus Oculatus agents, climbing higher and higher in the ship until we reach the door to the deck. We stop just in front of it to throw away any broken arrows and to clean our weapons, preparing ourselves for the fight that will surely await us beyond the wood.

"You ready for this?" she asks me, wiping the blood – still warm – from her glass blades.

"Never been more ready in my life," I say, and I mean it. I can feel all my pent-up rage building like a flood inside my chest, waiting for the damn to break and release it. I know that we'll most likely find Commander Maro on the deck, ready and waiting. The thing is that I'm ready too. I can't wait to face the man who ordered the burning of my home, who ordered the killing of my Family. I can't wait to strike him down where he stands, have his blood on my hands. Only when he's dead will I sleep safe in the knowledge I have avenged my Family.

With a final nod, the Listener opens the door and we slip out onto the deck of _The Katariah_.

Twelve Penitus Oculatus agents await us there, with Commander Maro standing watching us from the bow of the ship. Each is guard is equipped with a steel bow and sword.

"Kill the male Bosmer," his voice rings out clear and crisp through the night. The wind has dropped now and whistles quietly through the air, sounding very much like a broken panflute. "The vampire is mine."

The twelve agents ready their bows. I can feel my heart thudding against my ribs, screaming in fear. I always thought that if I, an assassin, were to be killed, I would want to go out fighting. I guess, with odds like this, I wouldn't even get the chance.

"Get behind me," I mutter to the Listener. She looks at me, incredulous.

"What?!" she whispers, as Commander Maro instructs the Penitus Oculatus to take aim.

"Get behind me," I say again, louder now. "The Night Mother told me to protect you, and that's exactly what I'm doing."

She moves behind me, slipping her glass swords into the ties at her hips. "Okay, but you're probably the one who needs to take cover."

"What?"

I hear Maro's voice at exactly the same time as I hear the one from behind me.

"_Duck_!"

"FIRE!"

I throw myself onto the floorboards as twelve agents of the Penitus Oculatus release their arrows, directly at the Listener I have sworn to protect. I have only a split second to look up and see a massive arc of purple lightning as it crackles through the air, shattering through the arrows and blasting the guards off of their feet. I slowly stand up, awestruck, and turn to look at the Listener, who is unsheathing her swords once again.

"Did you…?"

"Hey," she smirks. "I'm not just a pretty face."

I draw my bow, almost laughing, and notice that not only were the guards blown onto their backs, their exposed skin was also badly scorched. Their moans of agony reach my ears and I grin in delight.

"You finish off these agents," the Listener says, her mouth set in a hard line. "I'll be with _Commander Maro_ if you need me."

With that, she sprints off through the crowd of agonized soldiers and heads up the stairs for the bow of the ship. Shaking my head, I swiftly make my way around the deck, dispatching any of the agents who survived the blast. Many of them have been so severely burned their skin has gone black and flaky and a lot of them haven't even made it. Finishing off the last two in the far right, and, making sure I haven't left any survivors, I turn to look up at the bow of the boat.

Commander Maro and the Listener are in deadly close-combat. She tries rolling nimbly around him to catch him from behind but he turns far too fast and swings his greatsword a little too close to her head. She scrambles to her feet, slashing toward his face with her left blade. He brings his sword up in a block and the clash of glass on steel rings out across the deck. It's almost like watching a dance; their feet move gracefully across the floorboards like it was choreographed, their blades whirling around each other – close, but never hitting their mark.

"_Accompany the Listener on her contract and see that her blade pierces the Emperor's heart once and for all."_

The Night Mother's words ring clear in my mind. I drop my gaze from where the pair are fighting on the bow and scan the fresh corpses littering the deck. Picking out the body with the most impressive armour, I quickly search through his belongings. _Come on_, I think to myself, glancing up at the Listener on the top deck. _Come on, it's got to be here_. Finally, with my hand deep in a maroon pocket, my fingers grasp the cold, slender neck of a key. I pull it out and read in the inscription on the loop at the end: _Katariah Master Key_.

"That's_ got_ to open the door to the Emperor's Quarters," I mutter to myself, standing up. I look up to the bow once again, watching as the Listener stumbles backward under a particularly heavy blow from Commander Maro. He strikes out at her again and she flicks both of her swords up to stop the greatsword slicing her in half. But I can see her arms shaking, perspiration trickling down her face. I know from personal experience that she probably isn't as good in close-combat than she is from afar. Like me, she's an assassin; one who walks in blood and shadow. We're not trained like a warrior of the Companions; we're trained to be sinister and sneaky. We supposed to kill before they even know we're there.

_I have to get her out of there_, I think to myself, knocking an arrow into my bow. But as I raise my arm and take aim, I realize they're moving too fast for me to get a good shot. I'm going to have to get in close and take Maro out _personally_. Slinging my bow across my back, I prepare to head up the stairs and avenge my dead Family members. Moving carefully up the steps to the higher deck, the master key clutched tight in my fist, I step onto the bow and shout out to the Listener.

"Catch!"

I throw the key as high into the air as I can, and both of the combatants are distracted by it long enough for me to lunge across the deck and tackle Maro to the ground. I have only a moment to twist my head round and see if the Listener caught it.

She did.

"Go to the Emperor's Quarters!" I yell above Maro's muffled shouts, my hands pressed heavily down upon his mouth and throat. "Fulfill the contract!"

She looks at me for an intensely long minute. She then nods, surprise flashing across her crimson eyes. "Thanks." Spinning around, sheathing her swords and rushing down the stairs, she flees the deck of _The Katariah_ and through the far doors.

I turn my attention back to the disadvantaged Commander Maro. The flood barricade I held for what seemed like such a long time is suddenly set free, the damn broken and allowing the rage to flow unobstructed inside of me. This man killed nearly all of my Family. This man tried to burn down the only place I'd ever been able to call home. This man is the monster, not me.

"Get off of me, scum!" he spits. "I_ will_ get revenge, you sick bastards - for murdering my_ son_!"

I push his struggling frame back down against the floorboards. "Shut it, dogface."

Maro may be strong, but I have unrestricted rage on my side. Each time he tries to get up I ram my knees into his arms and push down on his throat with my hands. As quickly as I can, I take out my dagger from my belt and, snapping the buckles of his armour with the blade, plunge it into his shoulder to stop his squirming. The Commander bites down hard on his lips so he doesn't shout out in pain.

"Now, listen here," I say, hearing my voice come out dark and menacing. "I'm going to kill you. Like what you did to my Family. Remember that?"

Despite the pain he's in, Commander Maro barks out a harsh laugh. "Family? You're even more twisted than I'd thought! They were nothing but a bunch of bandits with a taste for blood!"

I thrust the dagger in deeper and twist it, _hard_. A grunt manages out past Maro's clenched teeth. "Badmouth my Family one more time and I'm going to _dissect _you, Commander. No, I'm going to do that anyway. I'll keep you alive until the very last second, until the pain is so unbearable you'll want to just die here and now. I'll pull every organ out of your body until only the heart is left. And then I'll snap its strings, one…by…_one_."

I wrench the dagger out of his shoulder and he screams out in agony, unable to hold it in any longer. I take the blade and wipe his blood from it against the soft material of his uniform. I then hold it tight up against his chin.

"When I'm finished with you, your own _son_ wouldn't recognize you."

At those words he struggles in vain against my tight hold. All I want to do to this man is make him suffer in the way my family had. I want to make him _pay_. I want pull out all of his veins and tie them in knots and then stuff them back inside again. But most of all, I want the pleasure of doing it myself.

When his body finally stops convulsing he doesn't even look human anymore. I have finished my biological…_research_, shall we call it? And I move away from the bow, my blood-soaked boots leaving imprints across the floorboards and down the stairs. My anger is finally washed away along with Commander Maro's life, and I feel hollow and empty inside. For five days I kept it bottled inside me and now I just feel…_numb_. Shouldn't I feel pleased? Joyous? Fulfilled?

By the time I reach the doors which the Listener exited through, my brain has finally alerted me to the fact my gloved hands are in fact dripping with the Commander's blood. I manage to wipe most of it on my armour but the rest has already begun to crust on. I sigh and yank open the doors, leaving red handprints on the wood as they close behind me. There are some stains you will never get rid of, no matter how hard you try.

In silence I walk down the abandoned halls of _The Katariah_, several bodies slumped against the walls on either side of me. Following the massacre, undoubtedly caused by the Brotherhood's infamous Listener, I find myself standing in front of the Emperor's Quarters. The doors, from afar, seem very plain, but on closer inspection they are incredibly detailed with intricate wooden carvings around the frame. To my surprise, my hands are shaking as I reach out to turn the door handle. What will I find behind these thick walls of wood? Will the contract be completed? Or will the Emperor still be alive? Withdrawing my hand, I instead press my ear to the door and listen for several minutes. Only when I do not hear anything, I take a deep breath and slip inside.

To be honest, I expected the Emperor's Quarters to be far fancier. Instead, it is plainly but tastefully decorated with shelves of thick volumes and cabinets with rare items stored inside. Red Imperial Legion flags hang from the top of the windows, which show an amazing sunrise over the eastern side of Skyrim. The sky is painted a pale orange, and streaks of bright red and gold space themselves across the heavens and race toward the clouds.

But, of course, the main thing that catches my attention is the Dark Brotherhood assassin standing in the middle of the room, her hood pulled back and golden curls spilling over her shoulders. She moves, very slowly out of my line of sight, and reveals the desk she was standing in front of.

There, sprawled backwards in the chair, is the Emperor of Tamriel. But - more noticeably - is the sleek blue-green glass arrow protruding from his forehead and the small red line of blood trailing from the open wound down the middle of his face, into his mouth.

The Emperor is dead. The contract is complete.

I can't seem to tear my eyes away from the Emperor's corpse but when I do my gaze lands on the Listener's face. Her statue-like mask is in place, as usual, but her eyes are distant, vague, staring at something only she can see. It takes me several moments for me to realize that two tiny glistening rivers are running down her cheeks, under her chin and soaking into the front of her hood.

She's_ crying_.

I don't really know what to do. Should I say something? Ask her what's wrong? I never know how to react when someone who usually oozes self-control breaks down, shows a strong emotion I hadn't believed them capable of having.

It is why I am also surprised to find her arms around me once again. I understood why she held me when we were back at the Sanctuary; she was emotionally weak from seeing her destroyed home and happy another member of her Family had survived. But here, now? I just don't understand. I don't really know what to do with my hands so I rest them on her lower back and hope I'm doing the right thing. The crusted blood on my gloves flakes off as my fingers brush her armour, floating down to rest on the floorboards beneath our feet. She's shaking now, and, again, it takes a while for me to realize she's laughing.

She pulls out of the embrace, wiping the tears from her eyes. Her smile is beautiful - and very rare; I've never actually seen it before now. I tilt my head, confused.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," she says, very softly, the odd giggle escaping her lips. "I'm just so happy that this is all over. It was like we fell asleep to an amazing dream we didn't realize would turn out to be a nightmare, and emerged the other side changed but still alive."

I manage a small grin. "I'm glad too."

We turn and leave the Emperor's Quarters, the magnificent sunrise warming our backs. Leaving _The Katariah _far behind us, we dive into the waters of the Solitude Inlet and swim back to shore. We make our way past the camp of the dead, all of the Penitus Oculatus we killed who were guarding the ship. Mounting our horses we ride for Dawnstar, where our new life, new home and new Family are to begin.

But that is not the end of our story, no. We have unfinished business yet to deal with ... starting with Amaund Motierre.


	7. Loose Ends

**A/N: The finale! I really do hope you all like :) ****I'd like to have an ENORMOUS shout-out to **InkheartFirebringer** and **datgirl1065 **who have supported this story every step of the way with great comments for each chapter – you guys make me smile! And also to **Demonhunter17**, who also commented for every chapter of the story written for all him :) ****So the final chapter, as the name states, is just rounding everything off nicely. Also, I'm sorry for putting an Author's Note at the end of this as well but I'd like to explain a few things once you're done :D ****So again, thanks to everyone who's commented followed/favourited and this is it! Awww, I'm all sad now it's over… *sniff***

**Disclaimer: But I'm not sad about not doing**_** these**_** anymore! ;) Skyrim is not mine, all belongs to the amazing Bethesda Game Studios.**

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**WE WERE BURNT AND ANAFRAID**

**Chapter 7 – Loose Ends**

I flick my dagger into the wood of the table, sending up a small rain of splinters and narrowly missing the Breton's hand. "So what's it to be? Do we get our money or do lose your limbs…starting with your fingers?"

We stand in the back room of the Bannered Mare, the door to the loud – and on this night particularly rambunctious – tavern closed behind us. The Listener for the Dark Brotherhood is on my right, her hand resting on her hip and one eyebrow raised in disgust at the man sitting before us. The man in question provided us a rather difficult contract, which we have now fulfilled and require payment for. I think you know the one of which I speak.

"You don't understand," Motierre says, his knees shaking a little. "I never _meant_ to alert the Penitus Oculatus to your continued existence, really, it was an accident!"

I'm enjoying this far too much. "Amaund; the money. Where is it?"

"So no hard feelings, right?" the Breton says. "You don't blame me for anything that happened?"

"We won't unless you don't hand over our payment." The Listener's voice sounds cold and cruel beside me, but I can detect an underlying tone of mocking in her words.

"Right, yes! The money," he says, jumping to his feet as the Listener and I roll our eyes.

"Finally," I mutter.

"The dead drop is inside an urn in Volunruud, in the room where we first met," he says, trying to make eye contact with the Listener but failing spectacularly. "It's all there."

So suddenly I almost jump she lunges forward and grabs Motierre by the throat, bringing his face as close as she can get to hers before hissing: "You're not lying to me, are you, Amaund? Because I don't like liars."

Eyes bulging with fear and hands going to her wrist to try and loosen her vice-like grip he struggles to shake his head. "N-no! I would never lie to you, I swear!"

"Good."

She releases him and he stumbles backwards, crashing into the table and sending a small pile of septims cascading onto the floor. He looks up, fright flashing across his face, his hands going to where hers were crushing his windpipe a moment ago.

"That's it, that's all you wanted, right?" he wheezes, eyes darting back and forward between us.

"Originally," I say, taking a step forward and unhooking my ebony dagger from my belt. "But then you played a nasty trick on us, Amaund. You tried to kill us. That wasn't very nice, was it now?"

"But-!" he splutters, taking a step back as I advance toward him. "You said no worries, no hard feelings – "

"We lied," The Listener's voice cuts in and his eyes flicker to her face for a moment before returning to mine. "I may not_ like_ people who lie, but I do it all the time."

Amaund is too busy watching my hand with my ebony dagger in it, moving ever so slowly toward him, he doesn't see the very fast glass one that comes whizzing across the room until it is buried deep in his chest.

"But," he whispers, looking down at the blossoming patch of scarlet liquid on his shirt as he falls back against the wall and slides down onto the floor. "We had a _deal_."

Striding across the room and retrieving her dagger from the Breton's ribcage, the Listener turns to me and gestures to the door. "Well then, let's _go_; I have other things to be getting on with now this idiot is dead. There are still plenty more out there to be dealt with though, so let's keep moving. "

As expected, Amaund did not lie to the Dark Brotherhood and we find the dead drop safe inside Volunruud; a dusty brown woven sack in the bottom of the urn containing twenty thousand septims. We make the long journey back to Dawnstar, where, by now, the new Sanctuary has been set up and new members have joined, eager for training. I finally receive that master Alchemy training from Babette, and we even create a very special, very deadly poison named 'Gabriella' in memory of our fallen friend. The contracts are flowing steadily in now that all of Tamriel once again knows and fears our name; the contract on the Emperor's life certainly put us on the map once more.

Using the twenty thousand septims we repair the Sanctuary and refurbish it to the best of our ability. We also return to the old ways of the Brotherhood; in the middle of the new Sanctuary, using the drained blood of our torture victims, we paint the Five Tenets on the wall opposite the stained-glass window depicting Sithis's face.

The Listener has become head of the Sanctuary and is feared by all the new recruits; at least, they shake so much whenever she walks past I have to physically slap them to get them to stop. Slowly, the Night Mother is piecing back together The Black Hand, the organisation that consisted of one Listener and four Speakers but was long since lost to the ages.

I am the first Speaker, Nazir is the second and Babette is the third, but we have yet to obtain the name of the fourth. No matter how often the Listener asks, the Night Mother always says she will deem the fourth Speaker whenever – and _who_ever – she sees fit.

After the events at _The Katariah_, the Listener and I have become far closer than I ever thought possible. She always seemed distant and unwelcoming, but maybe that was just the opinion of the inexperienced. Even though we hardly speak to one another nowadays, and to anyone else it may not seem so, we are actually close friends. But with the Dark Brotherhood on the rise once more and so many tasks we must accomplish, we have little time to spend together.

Although our original Sanctuary is never used anymore, and all of its remaining contents have long since been moved into the Dawnstar Sanctuary, the Listener and I still spend our spare time in the forests surrounding Falkreath. There is a particular copse we always go to; just atop an outcrop of jagged rock, overlooking the path beneath which the Sanctuary can be found. A small pond is settled in a ring of trees, standing upon a thick carpet of mossy green grass. It's the perfect view out across the top of the forest and to the cobblestone pathways below.

It was on a certain Loredas in Sun's Height the Listener and I found ourselves in the copse at the same hour of day; irregular, due to our work and very little unrestricted time we got. It was almost uncomfortable to be alone with one another after everything we'd been through. But we moved past it and lay back on the earth, gazing up and the clouds and holding on the precious few moments we got together that day.

"I can't believe we've come so far," I say, smiling, twirling the blades of grass between my restless fingers.

"I know," she replies, her statue-like composure slipping while we're lying here. "It almost seems like another life, like it happened to someone else. After all of that, you would think I'd reflect upon it more, but I don't."

"I understand," I say, nodding. "It feels like such a long time ago, although when you try hard the memories are still there, but buried a little deeper than you had expected."

We lie silent for a moment, feeling the breeze dance across our faces and catching the soft scent of pine sap lingering in the air. It's been a while since I've felt so relaxed and at peace; I guess I can share things with the Listener no-one else will really ever comprehend. I turn my head to face her, seeing her ashen skin glow in the sunlight, her crimson eyes shining bright. She twirls a stray lock of hair between her reedy fingers, and I smile at how _normal_ we look. You would never believe that we'd slaughtered half an army and thrown the provinces into disarray by murdering their ruler; just looking at us, _her_, now, you'd never even consider we were merciless killers, trained to murder the potentially innocent.

"You know?" the Listener says, startling me out of my daydream. "I can't remember your name. After all of this, I don't know what you're called."

"Really?" I say, sitting up as I reach down into the abyss of my memory to find I can't remember hers either. Was I ever told? Were we ever properly introduced?

She sits up too, crossing her legs and holding out her hand for me to shake. I take it; it's cold, but I can feel the warmth of emotions run deep.

"I am Naphyra," she says, shaking my hand as a grin spreads wide across her face. "I am Listener and leader of the Dark Brotherhood."

"My name is Aramber," I laugh, returning the handshake. "And I am a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood, and for its Listener."

I know then that I have cracked the eggshell and found the bird inside. Underneath her stone-like mask and cold exterior is the Bosmer who I have just met, the _real_ one. I realise that the Listener is my best friend, and I hope for it to stay that way.

We fall back into the springy grass, laughing at the stupidity of our own joke. I wriggle closer to Naphyra and lace my fingers in hers. I expect her to move away, or at least pull apart, but she doesn't, she squeezes my hand back and smiles.

We may be murderers, and killing is how we make our living, but today, right now, we are none of those things. We are like innocent children discovering the world for the first time, before we stumble upon the death and disease and hurt and greed that fills our lives with so much pain.

"Aramber," she says, grinning. "You rode Nightrider up here, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I'll race you to the bottom?"

She leaps up and begins running before I can even respond. With a smirk I get to my feet and call out: "You're on!" before racing down the slope after her. She's in the saddle and away just as I'm reaching Nightrider. He seems to sigh and roll his eyes at me, and I laugh, flinging myself on his back before spurring the stallion onwards with a flick of my heel.

"Come on, boy; let's show them how fast you can_ really_ go!"

With a little encouragement the blue-black steed breaks into a canter and then slides smoothly into a gallop, racing down the winding path where he will surely overtake Naphyra and Shadowmere before they reach the bottom.

The sun begins to set on that oddly sunny Loredas in Falkreath, in the month of Sun's Height, as the two horses and their riders slow to a soft walk along the cobbled paths of the forest; the race now run, the fun now over. If one were looking closely, they would see the male Bosmer deep in thought, but what about, no-one but the girl riding next to him could ever guess.

I sigh, breathing in the subtle smells of the forest and the fresh air. I know now how fortunate I was to survive the devastated Sanctuary; I wanted to die after I'd found about my family but I didn't give up on myself, I kept going.

_We_ kept going.

Naphyra and I joined together when everything we knew and loved had been taken away from us. We'd been burned; our lives destroyed, our trust betrayed. But we pressed on, we kept fighting, we never gave in. Was it faith that things would fix themselves, fate would run its course and we'd be alright? Or did we take our fate in our hands and change it, change how everything had happened, change our lives in ways we didn't understand?

All I know is that we were stupid and reckless, and the fire of the Sanctuary was like a test. We made it through; we walked out of the flames – burnt, but still breathing. We picked ourselves up and pressed on, kept going because we weren't ruled by fear, even though we had nothing left, nowhere to go. We stayed strong.

I thought I'd lost everything I loved. But now, I see, after all of this hard work and heartache, I realise that I hadn't. We'd built from the ground up again, and now look at how far we've come! There will always be fear in this world, of the monsters we see, of the things we face. But now I know that on that morning we rode from our destroyed home and broken Family to slay the Emperor of Tamriel, to fulfil a contract that seemed so hopelessly difficult we would never achieve it, that it was never impossible. We kept our faith, because we were burnt and unafraid.

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**A/N: Naphyra is named after both Daedric Princes Namira and Mephala, like, I merged their names together because Namira is the Lady of Decay and Mephala is the Webspinner, so I thought the titles that the names brought suited my character perfectly. A little on Naphyra's part backstory tells us that she actually named **_**herself**_** that name after she became a vampire and joined the Brotherhood. But that little story is for another day…**

**Also, I'd like to point out that YES I do realize they are a little too childish and happy-go-lucky near the end but I like that part of the story. This was ridiculously depressing to write and I wanted something to cheer me up. **

**Again, thank you all for reading :) Please review, it really does mean a lot to me :D xx**


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